Casey slipped back into the base before dawn.
The others were waiting. Tim at the table, knife in hand, jaw tight. Lacey stood close, her arms folded beneath her chest, the swell pressing against her shirt with every breath. Yuko leaned in the corner, legs crossed, her skirt riding high, smirk absent but eyes sharp. Amy perched on a chair, her knees drawn up, hoodie slipping off one shoulder like a teen influencer posing online.
The door shut.
Tim's eyes locked on Casey. "Talk."
Casey stepped forward, heels clicking against stone. She peeled off her gloves slowly, letting them drop on the table like she was undressing for a photoshoot. "I made it into Nomerci's hall. Jenny's alive. Barely. They've chained her like a spectacle. Hussain's handling her punishment. Genny's directing the show."
Lacey's arms tightened. Amy whimpered softly. Yuko's eyes narrowed.
Tim's grip on his knife carved dents into the table. "And?"
Casey hesitated. Genny's whisper still echoed in her mind — about Tim, about how he once touched the wrong sister. If she repeated that now, Tim would shatter. He'd rush into Nomerci like a madman, and Jenny would die before they reached her.
So she swallowed it.
"She's breaking," Casey said carefully. "Not from the chains. From Genny's poison. They're twisting her, making her doubt herself. If we don't move soon, she'll be gone."
Tim's jaw worked, his fury silent but visible. "Structure. Tell me about their base."
Casey leaned forward, tracing the outline of the hall on the table with her finger. Her neckline dipped as she did, the candlelight glinting against her skin like a staged magazine shoot. "The main chamber is here. Torches along the wall. Jenny in the center platform. Guards rotate every half hour, but most of them leave for the hunts at nightfall. That's our gap."
Yuko's smirk returned faintly. "An ambush."
"Exactly," Casey said. She let her lips curl like a streamer baiting subscribers with a half-smile. "But if the sun rises while we're still inside, it's game over."
Amy shifted closer to Tim, her sleeve brushing his arm. "Master… even if it means death, I'll go." Her voice trembled, like a girlfriend clinging in a late-night TikTok confession.
Lacey laid a hand on Tim's shoulder, firm, warm. "Jenny's one of us. You don't carry this alone." Her touch lingered longer than it had to, soft and grounding.
Yuko tilted her head, her smirk sharper now. "If we're risking everything, we might as well have some fun on the way down." Her tone was casual, but her eyes flicked over Tim in a way that wasn't subtle.
Tim ignored the heat in their gazes, forcing himself back to the table. He slammed his knife into the wood. "Tonight. We move at nightfall. If the sun catches us in there, we're finished. So we fight like hell and bring her back."
Casey watched him, leaning back in her chair with the easy poise of a femme fatale in a movie poster. "I told you, I don't waste debts. I'll be the first one in."
The air grew thick. The fear was there, yes, but under it pulsed something hotter: desire, loyalty, the pull of bodies pressed too close.
For a moment, it almost felt like foreplay before a dangerous night out — a crew dressing not for a party, but for war.
And still, every one of them leaned in.
Jenny was waiting.
And whether they came back or not, they would make Nomerci bleed.